[In the following essay, Spell reviews the first volume of González Martinez's autobiography, El hombre del bu o. Misterio de una vocación, praising the work's "contribution to the cultural history of Mexico since 1880. "]

In this first volume of his autobiography El hombre del buho. Misterio de una vocación, Enrique González Martínez (b. 1871), one of Mexico's leading poets, recreates the atmosphere of the Guadalajara of his childhood and youth; draws subtle pen-pictures of the members of his family, his teachers and friends; details his studies in medicine and the circumstances that led him to become a physician in Sinaloa in 1895; relives a happy married life, marred only by his gambling; pictures literary circles in the capital, to which he was drawn by men prominent in the Díaz regime; and describes his disillusionment and return to Mocorito, where a political post, too carelessly accepted, embroiled him in the Revolution of 1910.

A hard-working physician, he handled thousands of cases, many of them surgical, although it was later said that his skill in that line was confined to "twisting the swan's neck"—a reference to his indictment of Modernism in his celebrated poem "Tuércele el cuello al cisne." During the years in Sinaloa, he could call on few for either professional counsel or assistance, but he cared faithfully for rich and poor alike, and won confidence and respect, even while he squandered strength, time and money at the card table. Before 1905 poetry was merely an avocation; only Preludios had been published.

But this simple story of his early life is told some thirty years later with an artistry which places it on a level with poetry. Not only are people and places seen through the eyes of a poet, but the reader is transported, as on a magic carpet, along the way the poet had earlier traveled; and colorful details and incidents, both humorous and tragic, are pointed out with a flavor and zest for life which compel admiration for the narrator.

Not the least interesting bits are those that trace his literary interests and achievements—among them, the obituary and his reply published on the occasion of his supposed death in 1900, and his impressions of some of Mexico's leading writers that he came to know, five years later, in the capital. At that time Amado Nervo was there, embittered over his treatment by the literary clique; Joaquín Casasus was wealthy and influential, very generous with encouraging words but not with the material aid the young physician needed; Luis Urbina, generally recognized for his poetic ability, stood guard at the portal to Justo Sierra, distributor of governmental grants and positions to promising young artists and writers; and in the suburbs lived Jesús Valenzuela—editor of the Revista Moderna, best of Mexico's literary periodicals—sick, in reduced circumstances, and neglected by many of the friends of more prosperous days, but always kind. Stirred by these contacts but unable to find a means of livelihood, the physician returned to Mocorito to resume his practice and to try his hand at various literary forms, but not in the current modernista style. These efforts are to be found in Lirismos and a monthly literary journal, Arte (1907-1909). Sorrow over the death of his mother and son found outlet in Silenter (1909); at last, in these poems, he had found both himself and his field.

This recreation of the atmosphere and the personalities that contributed to the development of a poet is a valuable contribution to the cultural history of Mexico since 1880, yet the charm of the work lies less in the facts presented than in the art of the story-teller in transforming the commonplace into the distinctive. Readers of this volume will surely await the appearance of the next with eager anticipation.